Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork

by Rose Pressey

  I opened the door. “Caleb, what are you doing?”

  With a tilt of his head, he gestured toward Gum Shoe. “This guy got away from me and decided to chase a squirrel.”

  “Uh oh. No squirrel chasing for you, Gum Shoe,” I said.

  “Who is this?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked as he peered over my shoulder.

  Van barked, wanting to get to Gum Shoe. Caleb had no idea that a ghost was staring at him.

  “Would you like to come in?” I gestured.

  The tiny trailer couldn’t hold much more than three people and two dogs. Maybe since Mr. Vanderbilt was a ghost, it wouldn’t have such a claustrophobic feel. Caleb peered over my shoulder at Mr. Vanderbilt. Did he see him?

  “Sure, I’d love to come in,” Caleb said.

  He mentioned nothing about Mr. Vanderbilt, so it must have been a coincidence that he looked in his direction. Caleb stepped into the trailer.

  Mr. Vanderbilt eyed him up and down. “I assume this is a friend of yours and not the killer . . . or is he a murderer?”

  CHAPTER 11

  Travel Trailer Tip 11:

  For times outside your trailer in the summer

  months, use a mixture of two ounces of tea

  tree oil in a spray bottle full of water to repel

  ticks. This probably won’t work to repel

  murderers.

  Van and Gum Shoe sniffed each other. Van picked up his new chipmunk squeaky toy to show Gum Shoe. I pushed my art supplies out of the way so that Caleb would have a spot to sit down.

  “Did you knock on my door a couple minutes ago?” I asked.

  If he said no, I’d really freak out.

  “Yes, I came by, but that was when Gum Shoe took off. Sorry if I scared you,” he said.

  I scoffed. “Me? Scared? No way.”

  He studied my face. “Are you okay?”

  “Just peachy,” I said through a smile.

  “I don’t think he believes you,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “Are you ready for tomorrow?” Caleb asked.

  “I’m ready, but just hope the customers are ready.”

  “Well, I think it was a good thing that they postponed the craft fair for a day,” Caleb said. “You can’t sell crafts when police are searching for forensic evidence.”

  “I agree,” I said.

  Caleb stared over my shoulder, and I knew he was studying the portrait of Mr. Vanderbilt. He stepped around me and up to the painting. Mr. Vanderbilt followed Caleb and stood beside him.

  “This is an interesting painting,” Caleb said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked. “Interesting because I’m dashingly handsome?”

  “Who is this?” Caleb asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said quietly.

  My lie was probably evident. Why didn’t I just tell him the truth? He knew about the other spirits I’d encountered. Would he be so shocked to discover another one was around? It always worried me that he would think I was crazy each time it happened.

  “Really?” Caleb lifted an eyebrow. “I thought maybe you knew him.”

  “I didn’t know him,” I said with a smile.

  That wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t known him before the painting.

  “You didn’t know him?” Caleb asked with confusion.

  Darn. I’d hoped he wouldn’t pick up on my choice of words. I’d painted myself into a corner.

  “Why don’t you tell him you know me?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked. “Are you ashamed of me?”

  Oh no. I’d upset Mr. Vanderbilt. This was getting worse by the minute. Caleb stared at me, waiting for an answer. Mr. Vanderbilt did the same. I had to come up with some kind of answer. I guess the truth was my only option.

  “Okay, I suppose I know him.”

  A veil of confusion passed over Caleb’s face, as if the explanation didn’t make sense. The fact that Mr. Vanderbilt was a ghost in our presence hadn’t hit him. This was when the idea that I was truly bonkers would settle in.

  “Who is it? A relative of yours?” Caleb asked.

  I laughed. “No.”

  “Well, tell the young man. Don’t keep him in suspense,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “That is William Vanderbilt, the builder of the Biltmore Mansion.” I gestured.

  After saying it out loud, it didn’t sound so ridiculous. Maybe I was just painting him because I was here at the Biltmore. Yes, that was it. I would let Caleb believe that, though I would feel bad about not being completely honest with him. Ugh. I was confused.

  “Yes, of course. I should have recognized him. I guess you saw a portrait of him in the mansion and decided to paint from memory? You have such talent.”

  “I didn’t see the painting when I was inside the mansion,” I said.

  “Oh, you found his photo online?” Caleb asked.

  “Whatever that means,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “I didn’t check online, either.” I watched Caleb’s face for a reaction.

  Understandably, he seemed confused.

  “Okay, I’m out of ideas. How did the painting come about?” Caleb asked.

  I shrugged. “I guess you could say it just came to me.”

  It was then, I thought, that it hit Caleb.

  He peered around the room. “I thought I sensed something. There’s a ghost here? The ghost of William Vanderbilt?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Do you believe me?”

  Caleb ran his hand through his hair. “Wow. Yes, of course I believe you, it’s just kind of crazy, right?”

  “Kind of, yes,” I said.

  “It’s not that crazy,” Mr. Vanderbilt said. “I mean, I don’t know why it happened, exactly, but I think it happened for a reason.”

  Caleb realized that my attention was turned to someone else in the room he couldn’t see.

  “He’s here? Did he say something?” Caleb whispered.

  “He said that he’s glad that he’s here,” I said.

  “I heard the Biltmore was haunted by the ghost of Mr. Vanderbilt,” Caleb said. “I guess now we know that’s true.”

  “Well, it is my home,” Mr. Vanderbilt said. “You can’t expect me to leave.”

  “Is he a friendly ghost or a mean spirit?” Caleb asked.

  “Of course, I’m friendly. What do you think I am, some kind of monster?” Mr. Vanderbilt said with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

  “He’s extremely friendly,” I said.

  “Hmm. But you don’t know why he’s here?” Caleb asked.

  “Not a clue,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “Not a clue,” I repeated.

  “Well, maybe he’ll let you know the reason for his visit soon, or he’ll just go back to the spirit world and leave you alone.”

  Mr. Vanderbilt scoffed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Maybe I needed to shift the conversation.

  “There’s another reason why you came to see me, isn’t there?” I asked.

  Caleb shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yes, I suppose there is.”

  “I hope it’s not bad news,” I said.

  “Based on his facial expressions, I’d say it’s not good,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “We confirmed that it was a homicide,” Caleb said with a solemn face.

  “I knew it!” I said. “The killer probably walked right by me as I was entering the mansion.”

  “Such violence,” Mr. Vanderbilt said with a shake of his head.

  “Did you notice anyone acting suspiciously?” Caleb asked.

  I ran through the memories in my mind. “Nothing that stands out to me.”

  “Think about it. Maybe something will come back to you.”

  “How was she murdered?” I asked.

  “Strangulation. We believe the murder weapon was the velvet rope used to partition off the area,” Caleb said.

  “So it was a crime of opportunity. The person didn’t necessarily come to the mansion to kill her. Perhaps they got into a fight?”

 
; “Good work, detective,” Caleb said with a hint of a smile.

  “Celeste is as sharp as a tack,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “Thank you,” I said, answering Caleb and Mr. Vanderbilt at the same time.

  “One other thing,” Caleb said. “Now that we know this is a murder investigation, and I know you’re going to start snooping around, I’m asking you not to do that.”

  I knew my facial expression displayed exactly how I felt. I was incredulous that he would even ask me not to get involved. Did he know me at all? Of course, he knew me, or he wouldn’t even bring this up.

  “What’s the harm in doing a little snooping around?” I asked.

  “Considering there was a murder, and you could be killed, I would say that’s the harm,” Caleb said.

  “I agree with Caleb on this,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “I’m not going to get myself killed,” I said.

  Caleb turned and walked toward the door. Was he just going to leave and say nothing else? I didn’t want to make him mad. Perhaps I should just go along with his request and snoop around behind his back.

  “Caleb, are you mad at me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know why I bothered to even ask you this,” he said when he turned to me again.

  To be honest, I didn’t know why he bothered to ask that, either. But I would keep that comment to myself.

  “Okay, if you don’t want me to snoop around, I won’t snoop around.”

  “There’s a catch, isn’t there?” Mr. Vanderbilt said. “Don’t believe her, Caleb.”

  “Are you serious? Or are you just telling me that?” Caleb asked.

  I knew my facial expressions would probably give me away again. I really needed to work on that. Fortunately, Caleb couldn’t hear Mr. Vanderbilt’s comments.

  “I’ll try my best not to get involved,” I said, holding my hand up.

  That was the truth. Okay, so it wasn’t the truth. It was another lie. I was just full of lies this morning. Tiny mis-truths? Stretches of the truth?

  “Shame on you, Celeste.” Mr. Vanderbilt wiggled his finger.

  Caleb ran his hand through his hair once again. “Okay, I suppose that’s the best I can ask for. I can’t make you not get involved.”

  “Well, you could help me out a little,” I said.

  “Help you go into harm’s way? I don’t think I can do that,” Caleb said.

  “That’s not very positive, Caleb. It’s just helping the poor woman who was murdered.”

  Caleb opened the door. I hated that he was leaving and was possibly upset with me. What could I do to make it better? Other than not investigate this crime? Pierce would undoubtedly feel the same as Caleb. I would just have to be as sneaky about this as possible. Which was a good thing, anyway. The killer wouldn’t know I was on their trail, either.

  CHAPTER 12

  Travel Trailer Tip 12:

  Use things that have a double duty. Like

  paintings that add beauty to a space and also

  provide clues for a murder investigation.

  Caleb had gone, and I had to get back to the painting to search for any hidden images. Mr. Vanderbilt was obviously thinking the same thing, because he was already standing beside his portrait.

  He pointed at the canvas. “The distraction is over, so you have to check the painting for your secret messages. I’m excited and anxious.”

  I’d made it halfway to the painting when another knock sounded on the door.

  “What is going on around here?” Mr. Vanderbilt tossed up his hands. “What does he want this time?”

  Maybe Caleb had returned to tell me not to investigate again. I got the message the first time. But what if he had returned to tell me that we’d investigate together? Wishful thinking? Yeah, probably. After hurrying back to the door, I peeked out the curtain. Pierce stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting for me to open the door. What would Mr. Vanderbilt say about this visit?

  I opened the door. “Pierce, I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  “You certainly have the fellows in love with you,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  I knew he’d have a comment. Just because a man was here didn’t mean he was in love with me. Okay, so Pierce and I had a touch of chemistry, too. But nothing had happened between us.

  “I just thought I’d stop by to talk. Is it okay if I come inside?” Pierce asked.

  Something told me that he was here for the same reason as Caleb.

  “Sure, come on inside.” I gestured.

  “This is going to delay the hunt for the hidden images again,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  Pierce stepped inside my tiny trailer. Van rushed over to his feet, waiting for Pierce to pet him. Pierce reached down and picked him up.

  “Another friend?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked as he eyed Pierce up and down. “Van, I thought I was special. I get the impression you love anyone who will rub your belly.”

  Pierce’s attention was focused on me. He had no idea Mr. Vanderbilt was around.

  I held my hand up. “Before you say anything, I know why you’re here. You don’t want me to be involved in the investigation. I understand . . . it’s dangerous. The killer could come after me, and I should just let the police do their job. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “Are you finished?” Pierce asked.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s all I had to say,” I said.

  “Good,” Pierce said as he rubbed Van’s head. “Because that’s not what I was going to say at all.”

  “You weren’t?” I asked with a smidgen of confusion.

  “No, I wasn’t,” Pierce said.

  “What were you going to say?” I asked.

  “I came to tell you the exact opposite, actually.” Pierce stared at me.

  Was this some kind of trick? Was he playing a prank on me?

  “What do you mean?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Van peered up at Pierce, as if he were waiting for the answer, too.

  “This is interesting,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “I think we should investigate the murder,” Pierce announced.

  I chuckled. “You came here just to tease me, huh?”

  “I’m completely serious, Celeste. You’re a great detective.”

  “I like this guy.” Mr. Vanderbilt pointed. “Though I still think it’s questionable if you should search for the killer.”

  There had to be a catch or a punch line. I refused to believe Pierce was being serious. Caleb had just left and told me the exact opposite. Pierce had always sided with Caleb on this topic. Their strong opinion was that I shouldn’t get involved.

  “Do you care to explain exactly what you’re up to by saying this? You always said you didn’t think I should be involved in this kind of stuff,” I said.

  “I thought about it, and I changed my mind. I realize that you can be an asset to the investigation,” Pierce said.

  “The detectives here might have something to say about that,” I said.

  “Since when did you let that stop you?” he asked.

  “Well, never, I suppose,” I said. “What are you proposing?”

  “Proposing?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked in a loud voice. “If there’s going to be a wedding, it must be held in the mansion. I insist.”

  Forgetting to conceal my expressions from Pierce, I scowled at Mr. Vanderbilt. It was hard not to respond to his comment. A wedding? Heavens, no.

  “Are you all right?” Pierce asked.

  I wasn’t ready to explain the ghost situation to him.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Like I said, what’s your idea?” I raised an eyebrow at Mr. Vanderbilt so he’d notice my use of a different word this time.

  The tiny scar above Pierce’s eyebrow appeared more noticeable as he squinted in bewilderment, probably wondering why my behavior seemed odd. “I think we should brainstorm over any clues we have. Perhaps over dinner?”

  “Very clever, this one,” Mr. Vanderbilt said, pointing to Pierce. “He just successfully asked you for a date
. Definitely a risky move, though. He must really like you.”

  Was that Pierce’s plan all along? Just so I would go to dinner with him? Maybe he felt if he’d just asked, I would have said no because of Caleb.

  “I guess we could do that,” I said. “When did you have in mind?”

  “How about now?” Pierce flashed his dazzling smile.

  It had been a busy day, and I still hadn’t gotten the chance to search for hidden images in the painting. I really wanted to take a peek before I went anywhere.

  “Could you give me a few minutes?” I asked.

  “Sure, absolutely,” Pierce said. “I’ll just wait around outside for you.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  When Pierce stepped out of the trailer, Mr. Vanderbilt said, “Nice man. I think you two will be very happy together. Your children will be lovely.”

  “What? Mr. Vanderbilt, we’re not getting married.”

  “You’re not?” He massaged his temples, apparently feeling a ghostly headache. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

  I shook my head and stood in front of his portrait. Now maybe I’d find the hidden images.

  I picked up the glass and scanned the portrait. Sometimes the images were hard to find. It was as if they really wanted me to work at finding them.

  “What do you see?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked as he leaned closer and peered over my shoulder.

  After a few seconds, I said, “Aha.”

  “What did you find?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked excitedly.

  “There are two skeletons. One is taking something from the other.”

  “What is the one taking?” he asked.

  “It’s not clear. It’s just a red blob,” I said.

  “Why are they skeletons, and why isn’t the message clearer?”

  “I don’t have answers to any of that. I wish I knew. I have to assume it’s a message about the murder. Maybe someone was taking something from her. I’ll have to ask Pierce if the police think it was a robbery.”

  “So you’re going to work with him after all?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked.

  “I can hardly refuse, right? I’d better take advantage before he changes his mind.”

  Mr. Vanderbilt motioned toward the door. “You’d better get ready. He’ll be outside waiting for you.”